


Will You?

by LovelyAnnie



Category: One Direction, One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Engagement, Fluff, Gryles Friendship, Harry trying to be helpful, Louis being oblivious, M/M, Nick being pathetic, Tomlinshaw - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-03
Updated: 2013-02-03
Packaged: 2017-11-28 03:31:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/669782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovelyAnnie/pseuds/LovelyAnnie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basically Nick is absolutely in love with his boyfriend Louis, but can't figure out how to propose to him properly. So he enlists Harry, and Harry's advice doesn't work out how he planned.</p>
<p>Just a bunch of Nick/Louis fluff and love</p>
            </blockquote>





	Will You?

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first story on AO3, so I hope you all enjoy it! Be kind!

Honestly, Nick should have known better.

He really, _really_ should have known better than to trust Harry’s advice. Certainly, he might have been Louis’ best mate, but he was still _Harold_. Honestly the boy was more oblivious and eccentric than Nick, and that was saying something. At the rate Nick was progressing, he might have been better off asking one of their bloody fans for their input. Three weeks. It had been three weeks that Nick had been trying and failing to properly propose.

That’s right. Nick no-commitment Grimshaw was going to propose to his boyfriend of three years, the bratty and infuriating Louis Tomlinson of One Direction. And thus far he was making a right mess of it.

The first suggestion that Harry had given should have tipped Nick off that he just wasn’t cut out for this. He was going to propose over the radio, during his show. A grand gesture, Harry had said, it was sure to appeal to Louis’ dramatic tendencies. This was, according to Harry, the best plan. A huge romantic gesture to show to the world –at least to the working class population of Britain—that Louis Tomlinson was now and forever taken.

The morning that Nick had chosen to make his big announcement, he was a proper mess. He woke up twenty minutes late, his alarm not having gone off, therefore he had no time to do his hair. Curly hair hung limply against his forehead rather than its usual upright quiff. After nearly braining himself on the armoire in his bedroom as he troppled over trying to squeeze into his skinny jeans and learning that Louis –the little monster—had drank the last of the tea, he finally was out the door.

Harry’s texts were all over the place, yet a constant stream as Nick made his way to the studios. They varied from reassurances and warnings, that he’d damn well better not screw this up, and that yes Nick, he’s going to say yes. By the time that Nick had gotten to the studio, he was convinced that Harry was more nervous about the proposal than he was, an incredible feat in itself.

The show ended up being one of the most bumbling in morning show history. Fincham kept sending Nick looks, confused and suspicious after he managed to announce a song incorrectly for the third time.

“Anything you wanted to tell me?” he asked expectantly as Nick leaned back and groaned. The irritating and upbeat sounds of Taylor Swift blaring her whiny troubles through the speakers.

“No,” Nick snapped out. His phone buzzed.

_He’s listening. Go get him tiger xx – H_

This was Harry’s job in the grand scheme of things. He was meant to make sure Lou was awake and listening. The song ended.

“That, ah, that was America’s sweetheart with her new single!” Nick chirped falsely into the microphone, sweat beading on his forehead. “I, ehm, I’m going to go in a bit of a different direction here, so bear with me.” He opened his mouth to continue, to rattle off the speech he had painstakingly memorized and was saved deep within the hard drives of his computer. Finchy stared. Gem stared. The microphone stared. Well, perhaps the _microphone_ wasn’t staring, but it represented the masses who were all listening and that was nerve wracking enough.

“Grim!” Finchy finally hissed after a few seconds too long of dead air. Nick jumped, making a split decision.

“I, let’s just play the next song, yeah?” Nick hit play and cringed. Of course, he had planned this playlist last night. The sounds of Train blared through the speakers. _Marry Me_.

“Everything alright?” Fincham asked after a moment.

“Never better, Finch,” Nick forced his trademark smirk as his phone buzzed twice. A text from Harry and a text from Louis. He opened Harry’s first.

_You’re a right tit, you know that? Xx –H_

_Niiick! Harry woke me uppp and then left!!! Hurry up and come home :( -L_

Nick groaned and slammed his head down on the desk with a thwack. _Hm_ , he thought vaguely over the sound of Greg asking him what was wrong, an action he’d previously thought was childish and overdramatic was surprisingly satisfying.

Xxx

The next three weeks were filled with tried and failed proposals, each as grand and self-destructive as the last. Harry quickly got over his annoyance and began scheming again.

The plans varied, yet every time that Nick seemed to be getting closer, something would go wrong. He arranged a party and planned to spring the question with everyone looking on, but Lou got drunk before he even had a chance to get down on one knee. He arranged a skywriter, but Louis just snorted and pointed out that his fangirls would do just about anything to get into his fabulous pants –the thought bothered Nick, because _yeah_ his pants were great, but inside them was better – but that was besides the point. He tried setting up the flat with candles and rose petals –in fact, he enlisted Harry to set up whilst he kept Lou out—but when the romantic mood was sufficiently ruined when they returned to a very sheepish Harry standing in the middle of a very smoky flat holding a fire extinguisher and some ruined curtains. Nick was forced to come up with a half-assed excuse that Harry had asked to invite a girl over to woo her, and Lou simply retorted that he was a twat and that by the time he and Nick got back from their movie date the flat had better be fixed.

One might think that this was it. That Nick would just give up because _really_ this was proving to be impossible. Any sane person would. But unfortunately, no person, sane or insane, could say no to Harold’s puppy pout and his assurances that _this one will work I swear_.

Next came the stargazing expedition wherein Louis complained that his bits were going to freeze and fall off until Nick honestly torn between strangling him and hurrying him home because he was rather _fond_ of those bits. After that was the rooftop overlooking London, but Nick was too concerned with ensuring that his hyperactive five-year old boyfriend wouldn’t accidentally fall off the ledge of the building to even try proposing. Soon after came Nick trying to make Louis’ favorite dinner, but he somehow managed to use expired ingredients and by the time both of them had survived the bout of food poisoning, the original plan of proposing over vintage wine seemed rather ridiculous. After having attempted _making_ the food and subsequently ruining it, Nick tried to take Louis out and put the ring on a breadstick. Of course, Louis them proceeded to refuse any bread because it was _too filling Nicholas, are you trying to make me fat?_ Really, after that, Nick simply gave up.

“It’s useless, Harold!” Nick moaned, flopping backwards onto Harry’s couch, a glass of merlot tipping dangerously in his hand. “He’ll never let me get a word in edgewise to propose! He thinks I think he’s _fat_!” Harry clucked sympathetically, shoving Nick’s feet off of his lap so that he could sit more comfortably.

“I’m sure it will work out eventually,” he reasoned, but Nick was three weeks and four glasses of wine passed reason.

“It won’t!” he declared dramatically, “And eventually he’ll leave me for someone younger and prettier!” Harry heaved a sigh.

“Right, well I’m not about to sit around here and have a pity party. _I_ have a date.” Harry slapped Nick’s thigh and stood. “Up you get, I told Lou I’d get you home half an hour ago.” Nick pouted but allowed himself to be hauled upright. No matter how drunk or melancholy he was, he was always more than willing to see his boyfriend.

It took a while, but eventually Harry led a stumbling Nick up to his flat where he realized that he had forgotten to bring his keys. Harry knocked on the door, and it opened to reveal a less-than-amused Louis.

“Honestly, Nicholas,” Louis huffed affectionately, helping his drunken boyfriend in. Harry scurried away, not wanting Louis to turn on him. “I don’t know _why_ I let you out with Harry if you always come home drunk and late.” Nick grinned.

“You couldn’t say no to Harry even if you tried,” he retorted. Louis rolled his eyes.

“No, for some ridiculous reason I can’t say no to _you_ ,” he countered with fond exasperation. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.” Nick waggled his eyebrows at that, and Louis slapped him on the arm. “Don’t even think about it Grimshaw.”

“We’re back to surnames, are we Tomlinson?” Louis did not deign to respond, instead pushing Nick to his closet.

“Change,” he ordered, and stripped to his pants before crawling into bed. Nick grinned wolfishly and did the same, pulling Louis immediately against his chest. He opened his mouth to undoubtedly say something suggestive, but Louis shut him up with a sharp look.

“No. Sleep.” Nick pouted but didn’t argue, and within minutes he was fast asleep.

It was the early morning sunlight that Nick woke up to, his head pounding and his mouth tasting foul. He began to roll over to block out the sun, but was stopped by a head on his chest and arm thrown over his waist.

Louis’ expression was serene, his eyelashes fluttering against his cheekbones and his hair falling softly onto his forehead. As Nick watched his sleeping boyfriend, his headache softened. A weird and oddly welcomed warm feeling flooded through Nick at the sight. He really did love this boy. It was almost ridiculous just how relentlessly Louis had pushed and pushed until he was burrowed deeply under Nick’s skin and directly into his heart.

“Mm, Nick?” Louis’ lethargic voice snapped Nick’s attention. He blinked blearily, peering up at Nick from his resting place. “Wha’re you doing?” Nick smiled softly, realizing in that slow, morning way that he had been an absolute idiot. Even more of one than Louis usually insisted he was. Gently, he threaded his fingers through the available soft caramel hair.

“I love you,” he murmured quietly. Louis didn’t question it, simply choosing to snuggle in closer and sigh quietly.

“Love you too,” he mumbled back, content. They were quiet for a moment in which Nick contemplated the past three weeks. Why had he been trying so hard to propose in these grandiose ways when his best memories with his boyfriend were here, lying together in the quiet of the morning. He knew he was turning into an absolute sap, and yet somehow found that he didn’t care.

“Hey Lou?” Louis hummed in response to show that he was still awake and listening. “Will you marry me?”

There was a beat of silence wherein Nick held his breath.

Louis snorted. 

Indignantly, Nick nudged him. “I’m being serious, you little monster.” A moment later, Louis pulled away to stare up at Nick with painfully blue and vulnerable eyes.

“Really?”

“Yes really. Will you marry me? Nick reached around Louis to pull the small velvet box out from its hiding place in the bedside table.

“Oh my god,” Louis breathed.

“Yeah,” Nick laughed quietly. “So, are you going to give me an answer any time soon?” Rather than responding with actual words, Louis surged forwards and kissed him firmly on the lips.

Later, when the two were once again dressed and Louis had finally given a verbal consent, Nick slipped the simple white gold band on Louis’ finger and let him put the matching one on his own –not without, of course, Louis teasing him for simply wanting some bling of his own. While Louis made them celebratory engagement pancakes from a box, Nick checked his phone where there was one text from none other than Harold.

_I don’t care how you think Louis’ going to react, mate. If you like it then you shoulda put a ring on it xx –H_

Nick snorted and kissed Louis on the top of the head, twining their ringed fingers together.

_Leave me alone you beast. My fiancée is cooking me breakfast. Xx –N_

And well, if Nick’s phone proceeded to buzz incessantly for the rest of the morning, he couldn’t be bothered to check it. He was too wrapped up in his fiancée and his chattering about weddings and families and the future.


End file.
